Oh never weep for love that’s dead
Since love is seldom true
But changes his fashion from blue to red,
From brightest red to blue,
And love was born to an early death
And is so seldom true.
Then harbour no smile on your bonny face
To win the deepest sigh.
The fairest words on truest lips
Pass on and surely die,
And you will stand alone, my dear,
When wintry winds draw nigh.
Sweet, never weep for what cannot be,
For this God has not given.
If the merest dream of love were true
Then, sweet, we should be in heaven,
And this is only earth, my dear,
Where true love is not given.
Before love, in love and out of love. Love is a curious thing. Elizabeth and Rossetti's turbulent love for each other. Rossetti's infidelities, Elizabeth's insecurities, her frail health, his neglectfulness, and their mood swings all ended with her death in 1862 leaving a grieving Rossetti. After her death, he went on to paint one of his most famous paintings, Beata Beatrix dedicated to her. This collection follows her innocence before she met him, she being in love after she met him and she falling out of love when he left her no answers.
Surrounded by darkness, twirling around fully cladded in vibrant colours, entering a psychedelic trance, ignoring everything, dancing like beauties in the deep abyss.